


Two mechs in an Oil bath

by Drift



Series: Kinktober 2019 [24]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Bath Sex, Bathing/Washing, Bathtub Sex, Bathtubs, Kinktober, Kinktober 2019, M/M, Not Beta Read, Oil, Playful Sex, Slice of Life, Sparkmerge, Sticky, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, playfighting, sparksex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2020-12-29 05:42:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21134432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drift/pseuds/Drift
Summary: Kinktober 2019 day 24 - BathsexKnock Out and Bumblebee enjoying an Oil bath





	Two mechs in an Oil bath

"Primus... I can't remember when I felt this good... I'm never gonna get out of this. Ever" 

Knock Out proclaimed while he sunk even deeper into the warm, shimmering oil bath, optics offlined and plating flared wide, so that the viscous liquid could reach each and every millimeter of his very protoform. Bumblebee, who stood right beside the tub, leaning tiredly on the rim, just smiled down at his lover. 

"Having this still feels rather decadent. Some mecha are happy to be able to have a warm shower a few minutes a day, you know?" 

The black and yellow dipped his digits in the oil, disturbing the dark surface a little. Knock Out onlined his optics again rolling them instantly. Then the medic moved closer to Bumblebee without emerging a single centimeter out of the liquid, catching the other's servo with his own.

"Don't 'Bee" 

His tone was serious and warning. Red optics burning intensely while staring up at the sky blue one's giving him a curios look.

"Yes. We have it better than some. Maybe even than most right now. But both of us, you and me, have worked very hard for it. We deserve this. Or do I have to remind you how many hours I spend after my shifts in the medical bay giving Eradicons new paint jobs, upgrades or even frame changes? Or how many after hour trades you made with the northern Insecticon hive at the canyon to gather rare minerals for Wheeljack? I don't think I have. So stop feeling bad for being better off than others when you worked for it exceptionally more than others did as well."

Knock Out explained, while picking at Bumblebee's servo in his own, as a mischievous smirk stretched on his porcelain face. For a few second he calculated the workability of the idea that had formed in his processor. If he put his right foot there and twisted a little in that direction... the medic adjusted and without a warning grabbed Bumblebee's servo with his left and put his right at the mech’s elbow joint. A split second later the scout was in the air, a startled cry leaving his vocalizer before he landed in the oil bath with a loud splash, just to emerge moments later sputtering and coughing up oil that had made its way in his intake. 

Breaking out in a uncontrolled fit of laughter the medic moved aside a little as his sulking lover splashed him with the warm oil after unsuccessfully trying to wipe the liquid from his face with his equally oil stained servos, just making it worse.

"Oh...s-stop givi-ng me that -pfft- _that_ look... I just h-had too... Wait. What are you...? No-o 'Bee come on, don't, I mean it! No, stop! Hey! Ahrgnb..!" 

Knock Out’s arms flailed uselessly as the stronger scout pushed him mercilessly under the oil's surface. He waited a few seconds before he let go of the red racer, who shot up immediately spitting out oil and shaking his head, to get some of the stuff off his head and away from his optics. 

”Youuuu! Just wait for my revenge, this means _war_!” The medic hissed and threw himself against the scout, trying to get him somehow down under the oily surface as well, poking and tickling where he knew Bumblebee was sensitive. But even with his medical background he couldn’t out rule the scout’s superior hand-to-hand-battle experience, as Bumblebee suddenly switched their positions and he was now the one with his back at the tubs’ rim.

Then Bumblebee pushed the red medic against it. Strong servos kept Knock Out exactly where the scout wanted him. When he was sure that the red mech would keep them there Bumblebee's servos moved up the red arms, to the broad shoulders and from there down to his headlights. There they lingered and clever digits started to massage and stroke, causing the medic to moan wantonly, pressing against the digits. 

The servos went down the V-shaped waist as Bumblebee drifted closer, pressing his frame against the other, oil sloshing around them. As his servos went under the surface Knock Out’s panel was already gone, so his digits were able to slip between Knock Out's valve lips with ease. The red mech spread his thighs a little more, in a silent invitation, a request. Bumblebee kept teasing him with his two deft digits on the anterior node before he decided that he wanted more as well.

The servo was pulled away and the scout stepped even closer, pushing his frame between the legs, spike sinking in the valve with a single, drawn out thrust. Once hilted, Bumblebee found his rhythm fast. He kept a slow and steady pace; enjoying the moment, charge slowly building. Suddenly the sound of shifting plates and moving gears caught the scout’s attention. Before he could start to make up his mind he was engulfed in the telltale blue-white light of a spark. He stopped moving, too hypnotized by the beauty of the presented life-force. He wanted to ask if Knock Out was sure, wanted to know if this was just the medic's frame reacting or his conscious decision. But the only thing Bumblebee was capable of was to do the same, trigger the transformation sequence for his protective plating, baring his spark as well.

Everything else just happened. Instinct, programming... whatever it was, it took over as the sparks coalesced into one. Emotions, energies, their entire existence became one for as long as the moment lasted until overload overtook them. 

Shortly after, when they reached a state of awareness again, they still clung to each other, both vented heavy, while their fans worked overtime.


End file.
